Never Knew
by DrarryTLA
Summary: Harry Potter has lived with the Dursleys since he was 1.He has been abused and hated,his only escape was to dream of the family he never knew but always wanted.On his 15birthday things are different and Harry becomes part of a world he never knew existed.
1. Happy Birthday

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter... _Duh..._ I'm borrowing him from Draco...

NOTE***: So it's really hard to type this because I've like already typed this and I feel like crying because I had written so much, but then I had been lying on the floor to be comfortable while I typed and my carpet made me get all staticky and I touched my computer and it got shocked which made it shut off... and I had been about to save what I had written, but then I shocked my computer and it shut off!!! I don't think I've been so depressed ever!!! What I had was SOOOO good... and now I'm retyping it!!! *tear*

Also, I'm messing with the ages in this, I'm aware. I know that he is too old when the first chapter actually starts... it's for a reason. Be patient... Please enjoy! OH! And Vernon is a sadistic bastard... like he is REALLY bad in this... to anyone who likes him... I'm sorry... Dumbledore is a jerk...

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_Opening_

_Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, carefully held the small infant in his arms. He lightly traced the small scar on the boy's face; a mark that would forever make this boy want vengeance, both for himself and for the family he would never know... Albus could sense a great power within the small child, no older than one year... He had been done a terrible injustice and Albus would delight in helping the boy he held right the wrong done to him. He relished the thought of causing the darkness in their magical world to fall forever... and this small child in his arms would help to make that happen..._

_Dumbledore gazed upon Number Four Privet Drive, disdainfully. Leaving any child in a place like this was a crime in his twinkling blue eyes; the Dursley's were unfit to raise their own son, none the less someone else's... Unfortunately, Albus felt obligated to leave them with another child; a child that had been cursed to need them..._

_After watching the house quietly for some time... he finally decided to apparate away, before he could change his mind. It was better for the boy inside that hideous house to be with his family than with anyone else... Besides, Albus had one more stop to make..._

Chapter One

Harry James Potter jumped up quickly from his semi-comfortable spot in his bed when he felt more than heard his uncle call for him. Uncle Vernon's voice always shook the walls of his small room under the stairs... especially when he was angry... He sounded _livid_.

Without seeing, Harry grabbed a shirt from a pile next to the bed and threw it on; it swallowed him whole. He had never worn any type of clothing that had actually fit him; after all, why should his aunt and uncle spend money for him to have decent clothes when he was only allowed to go to school and then right back home? The only new clothes he ever got were clothes that no longer fit his enormous cousin, Dudley. He didn't bother with running a brush through his thick black hair; it always looked as if he just woke up anyway; no matter what he did with it. He finally slid glasses over his emerald green eyes, not that it mattered much: they were broken and he had very little light in the cupboard he slpet in, every few months he got a new light bulb but it wasn't necessarily "new". He threw the door to his "room" open and ran out, nearly whacking himself in the head on the low rising entrance.

He stopped in the entrance way to the kitchen. His Uncle Vernon was standing in the middle of the kitchen, making it appear as if the large space was five times smaller than it really was. At the kitchen table sat Aunt Petunia, her pale blonde hair hanging limply on her shoulders. Next to her sat Dudley, a beast of a boy who had been slowly trading his fat in for muscles as he got into wrestling. Harry had to deal with those new muscles constantly as he was his cousin's favorite punching bag. As always, Harry was still shocked at the slight weight and size of his aunt, especially next to Vernon and their son. She was about the size of a toothpick next to her son and husband... maybe _half_ a toothpick... Harry thought all his family would be nice looking if they would just take care of themsleves better, maybe smile every once in a while...

He continued to stand in the doorway, being carful to avoid eye contact... they hated it when he looked at them... He tried not to let them know how much it hurt when they would mistreat him, or even worse when they ignored him... His family had always made it clear to him that he was unwanted and while he hated being treated as if he were a filthy stray dog that needed to be impounded, he pathetically needed their hate and scorn of him. At least when they were being mean to him they were actually acknowledging his presence... He preferred being hurt to being invisible...

"Well!?" his uncle exclaimed angrily, his face a surprisingly _light_ shade of purple, "What are you doing still standing around!? Get to work!"

Harry ran to the fridge, still trying to avoid eye contact, and pulled out some things to make breakfast. He knew perfectly well why his uncle was in such a horrid mood. One: he was hungry (big surprise there), and two: it was the day before Harry's birthday.

Uncle Vernon hated Harry's birthday almost as much Harry himself. Birthday's for Harry were never happy. They were nothing like the ones he had seen on the telly (that is, on the few occasions he had been able to watch the television), where everyone cheered and clapped and had fun... He had never one had fun on July 31st, never even wanted to celebrate the day he was born into a life that he hated. The only person who got presents on this horrid day was Dudley, and he got more presents on Harry's birthday than on his own... Harry would gladly never have another birthday again... It was just another day for his family to shun his presence and to cut into his heart even deeper. Uncle Vernon's hatred for the day of his birth only made it hurt more and the man always looked as if he were expecting something horrible to happen... Harry had no clue what...

When Vernon sat down at the table to await breakfast, Harry hurriedly tried to ready something. If his unlce was late for work_ again_ because of him, he knew he would get a major thrashing. Uncle Vernon was a strong believer in corporal punishment... at least on Harry anyways...

As he cooked some bacon, Harry found himself daydreaming of a life he knew he would never have. He could picture in his mind a warm pair of arms wrapping around him, hugging him tightly. He could hear a soft voice telling him how precious he was and how much he was loved. He could feel the sheer joy of having a family that would love him... And although he could never see the faces of the people whom cared, he knew they were his parents. He knew that although he had no clue what they looked like they were beautiful and they were _his._ He could imagine leaving the Dursleys and running to a new home, one that was big and warm, running into the arms of people who actually cared about him, people who actually loved him. No matter how bad he felt, whenever he escaped to the world in his mind he would always feel better.

He didn't even know what happened to his real parents. Sure, he knew they were dead (his aunt and uncle had at least been decent enough to tell him that) but he had no clue how they died or when... They were like missing pieces in his mind, pieces he desperately wanted to be filled in... He wanted so badly to ask what happened to his parents, but he always held his tongue when he felt like asking. One: his parents were a definite sore spot for his aunt and uncle, not even the fact that they were dead, it was more like they hated the Potters. In the (today) fourteen years he had been living with the Dursleys he had not seen a single photo of himself or his parents. He had cleaned the house mulitiple times, literally from top to bottom, and had not _once_ found anything regarding Lilly or James Potter. Two: he had the childish fear that if he questioned the death of his parents and his aunt or uncle actually answered him, the truth would only hurt him. He felt that if he asked for details, his aunt and uncle would only paint him a picture of another couple like them. He feared with all his being that his parents could have been anything like the Dursleys. He could handle one pair of Vernon and Petunia, another pair, one that gave birth to him, would kill him.

He looked at not knowing the truth as the nicest gift his family could give him. Because he didn't know anything about his parents, not even what they looked like, he could imagine that they were perfect. He could imagine his mother Lilly smiling at him and hugging him, doting upon him on his birthday or nusring him back to health when he was sick... He could imagine his father James teaching him to play sports and bragging about him to all his friends and fellow employees, much like Uncle Vernon did with Dudley. He could imagine that they would eat together like a family, and he wouldn't be forced to eat any leftovers if he was hungry. He would be given his own plate of food (food he didn't have to make himself) like a member of the family, and he could eat as much as he wanted. He wouldn't be forced to do the dishes or clean the house. He could wear clothes that fit and he could go to all the places he'd never been too, like the library or the zoo. He could pretend in his head that, though it wasn't real, he was loved...

"Bloody hell boy!" he heard Uncle Vernon scream.

Harry snapped out of his daydreaming and his senses were instantly clogged with the ungodly stench of burnt bacon. He covered his mouth with his hand, quickly shutting the stove off and placing the burning bacon pan into the sink, turning the water on. The room was almost filled with steam and smoke. He reached to turn the water off, but he was suddenly grabbed roughly by the arm.

"Were you _trying_ to burn my house down boy!?" his uncle exclaimed, his darkening face inches from Harry's in the still smoky room.

"N-no sir," Harry stuttered, wincing as Uncle Vernon's fingers dug into the soft skin of his arm. He would definitely have some bruises later...

Vernon began to drag him towards his little cupboard, his grip tightening. "Make Dudley some breakfast Petunia," he growled over his shoulder as he wrenched the door open to the room beneath the stairs and threw Harry in. He glared wrathfully at the green-eyed boy, his face getting redder and redder as he fought off the urge to strangle the boy. "I haven't had breakfast, I'm going to be late for work, and the stupid boy that I regretfully took in under _my_ roof because his bloody parents are dead has tried to burn my house down..." His glare was seemingly trying to turn Harry into a pile of ash on the floor. "When I get back you'll get the biggest lashing of your _life_," the big man growled out, still glaring. "You will stay in this cupboard all day until I return. If Petunia tells me one time you tried to leave I'll come right back; do you hear me?" Harry nodded quickly, doubting his uncle's words not the slightest bit. "Good," the man nodded, the fat of his neck jiggling. He shot Harry one last evil glare. "Have a jolly day," he said as he slammed the door and walked away, his tone laced with malicious joy. He paused just long enough to watch the hurt flash through Harry's eyes. He couldn't wait to come back home and beat the living hell out of his nephew... it always brought a smile to his face...

_Later that afternoon..._

Harry had sat on his little bed all day... He only moved to get comfortable and to examine the bruising on his arm. He could see Uncle Vernon's hand print as if it had been done in paint. Any markings on his skin looked darker than normal, mainly because he was so pale. He was only allowed outside for school and yard work, which on days like today didn't matter. When he was told he was going to be locked in the cupboard, he was going to be locked in the cupboard. His arm hurt horribly, and he could only expect more when his uncle got home. Someone really hated him if he had been cursed to live with this family... He almost preferred the thought of being alone for the rest of his life to being with the Dursleys.

He almost felt like crying when he felt another pang in his empty stomach. His lunch had been stolen at school yesterday, there had been no leftovers from dinner last night, he hadn't even been able to _cook_ breakfast, and then he was not allowed out of his cupboard for lunch... although he could smell the mouth-watering scent of some sort of stew cooking. It had been cooking all day, stabbing small knives of hunger in Harry's stomach, awaiting the arrival of Uncle Vernon. Dudley had already come home from school; Harry knew not only because the boy had yelled loudly when coming in, but also because he had ran up and down the stairs a few times and then asked Harry if he wanted a snack. Of course, he shoved a peice of cake in his mouth while asking and while it had been incredibly disgusting to hear his cousin talk with his mouth full, it had made Harry incredibly envious, and it only made the hunger pains even worse...

Harry tried to read his watch in the dim light and through his broken glasses; he wanted to know how much time he had until his uncle would come home... But as soon as he could finally make out a time it didn't matter. At that precise moment, Harry could hear Uncle Vernon burst through the front door.

"Petunia... Dudley... I'm home!" he called, sounding unusually cheerful. Of course, it was probably the fact that he was going to get to take his frustrations out on poor Harry...

Harry watched through the grate on the front of his door as the enormous silhouette of his uncle walked by and towards the kitchen. He leaned back agaisnt the wall of his room, wrapping his arms around his waist as if he could hold off the hunger. Without even realizing it, he fell alseep.

...

Suddenly being pulled from his bed caused Harry to wake up. He cried out as he hit the floor and was drug from the room like a garbage bag, hitting his head multiple times. At the foot of the stairs, he was hoisted onto a pair of meaty shoulders and roughly carried to an empty room where he was literally thrown onto the floor.

His hunger was completely forgotten as he watched his uncle's dark form walk across the room to a closet and pull something out. Even without his glasses, which had either fallen off in his sleep or during the rough dragging, he knew what Uncle Vernon had pulled from the closet. It had the unmistakable shape and form a whip... He still wasn't sure when or where his uncle had come across it, but he had started using it on Harry about three years ago. Harry wasn't even sure if Petunia even knew about the whip... all he knew was that it hurt like hell and it always bit into his back with a savage sting... It also took _weeks_ to stop hurting and even longer to fully heal.

Uncle Vernon walked back to Harry and pulled him up by his messy black hair, earning a cry of pain. "Shh..." he said to the boy, tugging on his hair some, "You can't wake up Petunia or Dudley... I would hate to have to hit you harder for disturbing them..." He dropped Harry suddenly and delighted in hearing a small crack. To give Harry credit though, he only let out a small whimper as he felt the white-hot burning of his broken wrist. "Hurry up boy," Vernon sneered, "take that bloody shirt off. I would like to get this over with."

Harry painfully tried to slide his shirt off, his wrist making it difficult. He felt as if hundreds of little pieces of glass were embedded into his arm. He almost got it off without too much pain until Vernon yanked it off of him roughly, his limp wrist getting caught in a sleeve. Vernon viciously pulled the shirt away and he heard another small snap. Harry let out a cry this time... making Vernon smile.

He kicked the suddenly woozy Harry over onto his stomach and smiled at the boy's back. He could see the scars from other thrashings he'd given his nephew... they criss-crossed over his back. They looked as if recieving them had been incredibly painful and Vernon sure as hell had tried to make them that way... He loved having power over people, and the weakest person he knew was Harry... He loved hitting Harry with his whip, imagining the young boy as all the other people he wanted to beat his control into... The feeling of power was incredible and addictive...

Harry felt his back tense up as he awaited the first stinging blow of the whip... He loathed how his uncle would wait and wait to start beating him... If he was going to whip him, Harry just wished he would start and then get it over with. He hated waiting to feel pain...

Vernon waited a few more minutes for the anxiety to build before he pulled his hand back behind him and then let it fly forward. He watched as the boy's back tensed even more than it had been when he could hear the whistle of air as the whip sliced through it...

The whip made a sharp slapping sound when it finally struck Harry's back. His eyes watered and he wanted to scream, but he allowed no tears to fall and only a pained gasp to escape his lips. He knew that Uncle Vernon liked to hear him in pain the most, so he would try his hardest not to give him that satisfaction.

As the whip pulled away just to strike again, it was a little harder not to cry out. Harry had to bite his lip; and when he was hit a third time he tasted blood. He would. Not. Cry...

Vernon smiled as the fourth hit drew a little bit of blood. He hit again, harder, and got more blood. He liked the dark red of blood against the pale skin of Harry's scarred back... He liked the colors... He continued to hit his nephew, wanting to see more blood...

Harry was trying harder and harder not to cry out and scream... He could feel something warm run down his back and he could smell the rusty scent of his blood... It hurt so much... He had lost count of how many times he'd been hit... He was beginning to feel light-headed and the hunger from two days without food was attacking him again. He felt as if his stomach would rip a whole right through him, and he felt like his back was being massaged with shards of broken glass and rusty nails... Just when he thought he couldn't stand it any more, just when he was about to break, the biting whip left his back and remained off. He tried to sigh in relief, but it came out as a quiet sob instead. He wanted to cover his mouth so he wouldn't be heard, but the pain left him immobile. He felt that one move would make all the pain he felt increase ten-fold.

He was lifted off the floor and back onto a pair of meaty shoulders where he could feel them walking back to his room. He was almost gently tossed onto his bed where his uncle had the decency to at least place him on his stomach. He was partially lying on his hurt wirst, but it was no where near as painful as his bloodied back... Relief washed over him as he felt the presence of his uncle leave. He let out a quiet sob, still not wanting anyone to hear. He wanted to wipe his face but he still couldn't muster up the ability to move.

He painfully awaited sleep to claim him, begging desperately to dream of anything that could distract him from the pain he felt. He was thoroughly convinced that the aching would follow him even in his dreams...

The last thing he heard as he was greatfully sucked into the world of unconsciousness was the beeping of his watch as it read 12:00 a.m.

"Happy birthday," he mumbled to himself, finally allowing sleep to take over.

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Harry woke up and instantly wished he hadn't. He wished, not for the first time in his life, that he would have just died in his sleep. Dying had to be a hell of a whole lot better than living... at least in his world...

He hurt so much... It was hard to breathe because the pain was so intense. His back was aching and burning, as if someone was behind him running a hot iron over it; his wrist, which he had heard snap twice last night, was still uncomfortably settled partially beneath him... What he could see of his arm was a sickly blackish-blue color... it hurt like hell... Why couldn't he have just died in his sleep? Did some higher being hate him so much?

At least, he knew he had the whole day to himself. It was his birthday; his aunt and uncle would be gone all day to do stuff with Dudley so the boy could come home and brag about what he had done in Harry's face. He wouldn't receive a cake, a single present, or even a 'Happy Birthday!'. His family didn't care enough to even pretend that it mattered to them whether he even had a happy birthday or not. They took Dudley out all of the time and bought him whatever he wanted; on Harry's birthday Dudley was treated to a second Christmas...

Harry moaned as he tried to sit up, his body protesting with every breath. He didn't want to move, he didn't want to breathe... he didn't want to live... He had never felt this bad before, never. His head was pounding, his back was burning, his wrist was throbbing, his stomach was aching... It had never been this bad before...

He grabbed one of the bigger T-shirts the Dursleys had given him and, with some difficulty, managed to put it on. The cool fabric gave just the slightest bit of soothing to his aching back. He would need to take a shower to rid his back of the dry blood he could feel sticking to his skin. He felt horrible, absolutely disgusting.

With even more protest from his body, Harry managed to swing his legs over the side of the bed. The cool tile of the floor seemed to burn his pain-sensitive skin. He whimpered as his stomach clenched painfully and he accidentally put pressure on his broken wrist. His entire left arm was one giant bruise, his right arm still sporting his uncle's large handprint. He didn't even want to see his back...

His body still begging him not to move, he stood from his bed and, his legs wobbling, made his way to the door. He opened it slowly with his right hand, keeping his left one securely against his bare chest. He hobbled his way to the kitchen where the sunlight seemed to brighten his spirits just a tiny bit. He reached the fridge and pulled it open.

He thought that he would want everything inside the fridge. He thought that he would have ravaged everything inside... However... at the sight of all that food, his stomach churned and he felt sick. He wanted to run to the bathroom but his knees began shaking horribly. He moved to the sink as quickly as his body would allow him to and emptied what little there was inside his stomach. He stood as still as he could when he was finished, not wanting to risk motion sickness.

When he finally thought he could move, he rinsed the sink out and then his mouth. The scar on his forhead, an odd lightning bolt-shaped scar he had gotten shortly after his first birthday, began to tingle. He splashed water over his whole face with his good hand and used the front of his overly-large t-shirt to dry off. His movements were slow and his entire body was sore, his broken wrist sending waves of pain up and down his arm with even the slightest movements. How was he going to fix this? He wouldn't be able to do any of his chores in this condition but he didn't dare ask for help... Harry recieving help from any of the Dursleys was like Vernon losing weight: impossible.

As he stood on unsteady legs and thought about what he should do, the scar on his forhead's tingling grew more and more annoying, almost to the point of pain. He took a deep breath and steeled himself against the pain he was sure would come as he made his way out of the kitchen and headed back to his room under the stairs.

As he walked his body protested with every step. The walls of the hall seemed to be closing in on him and for the first time he was scared that his uncle had gone too far this time, that this time the Dursleys would be rid of him for good. He reached out and used his right hand to steady himself and prop up against the wall. He sunk down to the floor, unable to stay standing. _I'm dying this time, _he thought as he closed his eyes tightly to block out the tears fighting to escape. The air around him crackled with an odd energy and when he opened his eyes again he could have sworn that he saw small sparks randomly appearing in the air. He was really scared now. What was going on? His head throbbed as his scar exploded in pain. He grabbed his head, ignoring the pain in his wrist and cried out from the pressure building up in his head and in the air around him. It was crushing him. The walls were getting closer, the sparks bigger and more pronounced.

The last thing Harry managed to see was a shadow approaching him from seemingly nowhere.

And then the world went black again...

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**NOTE: **Please review!!!

And I _am_ quite aware that Lilly is spelled different in this story than in my other one. I wrote this one a few months back... Blah Blah Blah... So I'm sorry for spelling it 2 different ways.


	2. New Home

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter... _Duh..._ I'm borrowing him from Draco...

**NOTE: **I'm finally writing chapter 2! I hope you like it, but it may not be as long as the first one... I'll apologize now...

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Chapter Two

_The last thing Harry managed to see was a shadow approaching him from seemingly nowhere._

_And then the world went black again... _

"Good morning, Harry, my boy!" a strangely cheerful voice called as Harry finally began to wake up. His head was pounding but his body wasn't in as much pain. The only part of him that really hurt was his back, but the pain was far less than it had been. He could handle it. He looked around to see the source of the voice, but without his glasses, he was blind. "Are you looking for these?" the voice asked. Then Harry's glasses were placed on his face. He came face to face with an older man with twinkling blue eyes hidden behind half-moon spectacles. He wore strange purple robes and had a really long white beard dangling from his wrinkled chin. His smile appeared to be warm and welcoming, but Harry, who had lived with hatred all his life, could see something darker in the blue depths of his twinkling eyes.

"Who are you? And where am I?" Harry asked as he sat up straighter, gritting his teeth when pain shot down his spine as he did so. He made sure not to take his eyes off of the old stranger.

"Such excellent questions, my boy," the man chuckled. Harry was beginning to get annoyed by his cheerful voice; it was too cheerful and sounded fake. "I admire that quality about you. You're just like your parents."

A red flag popped up in Harry's mind and he was immediately on alert. "You knew my parents? What else do you know about me?" he asked desperately wanting an answer. Was this old man a friend of his parents? What else did the man know?

"All in good time," the old man smiled. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed Harry was lying on; it wasn't his bed at Privet Drive. "For now I shall answer your first questions. My name is Albus Dumbledore, but you may call me Dumbledore or Professor. Whichever you would prefer. You are currently lying in a bed at the Infirmary of my school."

"A school?" Harry questioned. "How did I get here?" He looked around the room and noticed that he was surrounded by a thick white curtain, much like his high school's infirmary. Dumbledore just smiled watching him.

"You certainly are full of many questions," Dumbledore said as he patted Harry's leg. "I have already found the perfect family for you to stay with until the new term starts in two days time," he said. "I'm sure you will feel quite at home." The tone of his voice told Harry that the old man was keeping something from him. More questions began to form in Harry's mind.

"I'm not going back to the Dursley's?" Harry asked hopefully despite his mind telling him not to trust the old man before him.

Dumbledore smiled. "No, dear child... Unless, you wish to return to them?"

"Absolutely not," Harry said immediately.

"I thought not," the old man laughed. "You were in pretty bad shape when I picked you up from your aunt and uncle's."

"I don't consider them as part of my family, sir, so you don't have to either," Harry said as he looked down at his hands so Dumbledore wouldn't see the hurt in his eyes. He hated to show weakness.

"They raised you," Dumbledore pointed out.

Harry laughed bitterly, "The didn't raise me. _I_ raised myself... They_ trained _me."

"I don't understand," the old man replied. Harry felt a tug at his heart that said the man was lying.

"They trained me to fear them, and to do whatever they ordered no matter what," he elaborated anyway. A thought struck him. "Why did you take me away? How did you find me?"

"All in good time," Dumbledore said again. Then he stood. "Some of your clothes are waiting in the trunk at the foot of your bed. Once you build up the strength, get dressed and I will be back shortly. Then I will take you to a more comfortable place to stay." He smiled one more time and left before Harry could say anything.

Harry stared at the swaying part of the curtain Dumbledore had just left from. He was so confused, but grateful nonetheless to be away from the Dursley's. There were so many questions running through his tired mind. He cautiously stood, not entirely sure if his legs would be able to support him, and walked over to the end of the bed. There was a huge brown trunk sitting there. As he bent to open the trunk another painful jolt went down his spine. He stopped and gritted his teeth again. With a shaking hand he reached beneath the cotton shirt he had been clothed in and felt his back. He grimaced at the feel of all of the angry welts and scars. His uncle had done a real number on him this time. He could tell that these new marks would not be going anywhere...

Once he finally bit through the pain and opened the trunk he found all of his clothes from home inside. He got dressed in silence and sat back to try and think about what had happened.

He was worried that this was all just a weird dream, and that when he woke he would still be lying on the floor in a broken mess with no one there to help him or care that he was hurt...

****

And just as the old man had said he would, he returned about an hour after he had left. Harry had been dreadfully bored and thus found himself pacing the small infirmary lot he had been kept in. He had felt too weak to walk too far away so had kept his wandering inside of his own curtain. What if there were other patients? He certainly didn't want to bother them. He jumped slightly as Dumbledore walked in.

"Are you ready, my boy?" the old man asked. He smiled down at Harry, who was unnerved by the falsity of the action. How could anyone act so falsely while believing that no one saw through the facade? Harry saw through the act with more accuracy than his uncle's fist.

"Ready for what, Professor?" Harry asked.

"Why, to leave of course!" Dumbledore chuckled, and Harry was sick at the thought of how much more appealing Dudley's laugh was compared to the old man's before him.

"And where are you taking me?" Harry asked.

"I am taking you to the home of one of the noblest families in our world," Dumbledore said in reply. Harry was beginning to tire of the vague answers and lack of details.

"What world is that?"

"The world of magic." Dumbledore smiled and then pulled a polished, wooden stick from his odd purple robes. He pointed the stick at the trunk holding Harry's clothes and whispered a word Harry had never heard before. Then before his very eyes, Harry watched the trunk shrink until it could easily fit into the palm of his hand. "Grab your trunk, my boy, and we shall be on our way," Dumbledore ordered. The twinkle in his eyes was even more pronounced now.

It took Harry a few moments before he finally bent to grab his trunk. "How did you do that?" he asked.

Dumbledore chuckled once and ignored the question. He simply turned briskly and led Harry from the Infirmary. Harry noticed that he had in fact been the only patient. He marveled at the rest of the Infirmary. There were at least thirty more beds and a small office off at the rear of the room. A gold plaque on the door read: _Madam Pompfrey_. He assumed that she was the nurse in charge. Why hadn't he seen her? The only person he remembered was Dumbledore...

"This way," Dumbledore smiled as the pair left the Infirmary through two large oak doors. Harry followed obediently and excitedly took in his surroundings. There were hundreds of pictures, all of which waved at Harry as if they were real people! He waved back enthusiastically.

Then suddenly Harry felt a rush of ice go through him. He stopped dead in his tracks and gasped as the ice was suddenly gone. "Oh, pardon me, lad," someone said apologetically. Harry turned to address the person only to find that he saw only hallway behind him. "Up here," the voice said with a chuckle. Harry lifted his head and gaped. There was a ghost! A ghost floating right above his head!

"H-hello!" Harry said quickly. He was at a loss of words. What exactly did one say to a ghost? Weren't they supposed to be evil?

"I am dreadfully sorry if I frightened you," the ghost said with a bow. "I am Nearly Headless Nick."

"Harry," Harry told him. "Nearly Headless?" he questioned.

Nick laughed and reached up to grab his hair, but Dumbledore interrupted. "We must be leaving, Nick," he said as he gently grabbed Harry's arm. Harry flinched slightly at the touch.

Nick saw and frowned slightly. "Whatever you say, Headmaster," he said bowing again. "I shall show you later," he directed at Harry. Then he floated off down the hallway.

"We must be off," Dumbledore said as he pulled Harry along the corridor. "If we don't make it to the Gates in time our portkey will not work."

"Portkey?" Harry asked as he tried to pull his arm from the old man's grasp.

"It's a magical device used to travel... Today we will be using an old bowler hat," Dumbledore answered.

The rest of the walk passed in silence and Harry was grateful. He enjoyed taking in the sights of the castle they were in. A real castle! Harry saw something he had never seen before at every turn as they walked. But Dumbledore kept giving him sideways glances that he kept trying to ignore. The old man was beginning to get under his skin. Something about him was not right... Harry had never felt this uneasy before. Not even with his "family". With them, at least, he knew what to expect, but with man before him... He had no idea what the old man was capable of...

"Just through these doors," Dumbledore said as he pointed his finger at a pair of large, massive wooden doors. To Harry's surprise, the doors opened without the slightest touch from the Headmaster.

"Wow," Harry breathed under his breath as he and Dumbledore passed through the doors. They closed behind the pair on their own. Just outside the door there was a long gravel path leading down to a large, iron gate. Dumbledore led the way down the path. Harry took his time walking so he could take in the beautiful view of what castle grounds he could see. Only one-hundred yards to the castle's right was a shimmering lake. The sunlight shone brightly on the still water, creating hundreds of jewels that danced on the surface. Then suddenly a giant creature jumped from the water's depths and quickly disappeared beneath the water once again. Harry could have sworn it was a giant squid...

To the castle's left, leading all the way to the gate and disappearing behind the castle was a dark forrest. The trees were grown closely together and were of a gray tint. They were all of various sizes and had knarled branches and trunks. The creepy forrest looked dangerous... As he and Dumbledore approached the gate, he heard a heavy rustling come from the ominous trees. He picked up his pace to walk closer to the old man's side. Harry did not want to meet whatever monstrous creatures that lived in the dark forrest...

"Here we are," Dumbledore smiled as they reached the gate a minute later. The gate, like the doors, opened by itself. They crossed the threshold and Harry felt a slight tingle shoot through him as he did so. "You just felt the castle's wards fall off," the old man explained.

"Wards?" Harry questioned. "Magic?"

"Correct, my boy," Dumbledore clapped. He adjusted his glasses and then began searching the ground for something. "Help me find my hat, Harry."

Harry frowned but looked around for the hat anyway. "It's there," he said pointing to a bright green bowler hat that was only ten feet from the gate.

"Ah, good work... This way," Dumbledore said as he walked top the hat. Harry followed obediently and watched Dumbledore look at an oddly shaped watch on his fragile wrist. "In exactly six seconds grab the hat and do not let go for any reason. I will try to instruct you as best I can whilst in travel. Don't expect to land perfectly your first time," he added with his creepy chuckle. "Five... Four... Three... Two..." Harry reached for the hat. "One."

When Harry touched the hat he felt a rush of air, as if all gravity had the left the Earth. He closed his eyes tightly and with his free hand he held his glasses to his face because he could afford to lose the only pair he had...

Only three seconds after touching the hat the gravity returned and Harry unceremoniously dropped on his knees atop a really soft lawn. He straightened up and looked around in a daze. Dumbledore landed gently next to him. "Did you not hear my instructions?" he asked.

"No, I did not," Harry bit back as he stood without help and dusted himself off. As he straightened back up he finally saw the large manor in front of him. It was as big, if not bigger, than the castle they had just left! His awe was ruined, however, when a loud pop resonnated in the air and a small brown creature appeared right next to wear he stood. Harry jumped at the surprise appearance and looked at the small creature. It had large green eyes, like tennis balls, and a ratty shirt. The creature's ears were nearly bigger than its head.

""H-hello," the creature stuttered in a small voice. "I is Dobby the House-Elf. Welcome to my master's home. I is told to bring misters Dumbledore and companion to the master's study. Please take Dobby's hands, sirs."

Harry watched as Dumbledore reached forward and took Dobby's right hand. Dobby seemed harmless, and Harry already liked the mousy creature better than he liked Dumbledore. He smiled at the creature and took his left hand. Dobby looked down at the ground and before Harry knew what was happening, he felt a violent tug at his naval. The awkward feeling disappeared as quickly as it had come and Dobby released his hand. This new type of travel did not help suit Harry very well because as soon as Dobby released him he staggered backwards and fell onto his back. He bit his lip to keep from crying out as pain shot up his spine. He clenched his eyes shut and willed the pain to go away. Dobby rushed to help him stand.

"Are you alright?" a cool voice asked from behind Harry. He slowly turned and saw a very handsome man behind a large, black desk. His hair was white-blonde and tied into a low ponytail at the base of the man's neck. Swirling silver eyes looked back at Harry with concern.

"Yes, I'm alright," Harry smiled. "Why have I been brought here?"

The man behind the desk sent a cold glare to Dumbledore before he said, "It's just like you, Albus, to only tell half of the story." Then he looked at Harry kindly. "I am Lucius Malfoy, lord of this manor, your new home."

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry said as he stepped forward to sit in a black, leather chair placed in front of the desk.

"Hello, Harry," Lucius smiled. "It is a pleasure to meet you." Then he looked to Dumbledore again. "You may go, Albus. Dobby will Apparate you back out."

"Very well, Lucius," Dumbledore smiled. Harry felt uneasy again as he watched the man's eyes twinkle behind his half-moon spectacles. They continued to twinkle as Dobby grabbed his hand and with another loud pop, vanished.

"Now that the old fool is gone," Lucius said as he stood, "I will be happy to answer any questions you have."

"Why am I staying with you?" Harry asked.

Lucius walked around the desk and stopped next to Harry's chair. "You will be safe here. Not even Dumbledore can get past the wards to come inside. That is why Dobby had to bring you in and take him out. Once I allow you through the front door, the wards will recognize you as a friend, even if you are a foe."

"Dumbledore is your enemy?" Harry asked in confusion.

"Not exactly," Lucius chuckled. The sound was warm and welcoming, completely different than Dumbledore's. "It is hard for me to put my trust in a man like Dumbledore. He is too... flexible, for lack of a better word. One never know where his loyalties lie, with the good or with the bad? I think he has long outlived his sanity. He did, however, pick the perfect place for you to stay, though I fear there are more ulterior motives to whatever he's planning."

"I didn't like him much either," Harry smiled, glad he wasn't the only one to disapprove of the old man. "There's something about him that unsettles me."

"I would worried if you weren't unsettled or wary. You've been taken away from home and brought into the house of complete strangers," Lucius said as he patted Harry's shoulder. "I would be cautios as well."

"Any place is better than home," Harry said as he stood. "I never want to go back..."

Lucius felt his heart ache for the teen before him. Dumbledore, the insane fool he was, had told Lucius nothing about Harry. He had simply informed Lucius that he would need to open his house to a new student. Lucius had agreed, knowing that Harry would need guidance, a way to keep from becoming one of Dumbledore's disposable pawns. "My house is open to you as long as you wish," he said as he walked to the open door of his study. "Please, follow me and I will show you to your room."

**DrarryTLA**

Draco Malfoy had been in the manor's library working on a Potions essay all morning. He actually had no idea why he even needed references from the library. Potions was second-nature to him. The potion he was writing on was easy enough for him to do in his sleep... Why his godfather felt the need to give him summer work like the rest of his class was beyond him. Every potion in the book Draco could brew perfectly. He needed no extra practice...

The Veela blood coursing through his blood permitted Draco to be naturally skilled at everything he did, like Potions, Charms, spells, curses, Quidditch... The list goes on and on. The only thing he was not permitted to do was to go out and find his mate. Every Veela (it makes no difference how much Veela blood you have, you are considered a Veela regardless) had a destined mate. Draco's mate had yet to be revealed to him. His father believed that his mate wasn't revealed yet because he was not "ready" to have a mate. Yes the hell he was. Draco had longed for his mate since his first year at Hogwart's. Though he acted cold and discriminating to the world, he felt hopelessly lost without his other half. Sometimes he cursed his mother and her family for passing the Veela heritage down to him. The inferior way he felt incomplete was torture. How was he to uphold the Malfoy image if he was hindered by feelings of heartache?

Veelas lived for their mates... Veelas died for their mates... Veelas loved their mates... And Draco wanted his mate. He wanted to be complete...

And at that precise moment, he felt it... His mate.

He closed his eyes and inhaled. Not only had his mate been revealed, but his mate was also in the manor. Draco felt his inner Veela take over. He opened his eyes and ran as quickly as he could from the library...

**DrarryTLA**

Harry really liked Lucius. The beautiful blonde man carried himself as if he owned the world. (And based on the size of the manor, it would not surprise Harry if he did...) Every move he made was elegant and demanding to be noticed. Harry, however, did not feel inferior. He supposed that Lucius knew the right ways to make guests feel at home, and as he explained where different rooms were on their walk, Harry felt as if he belonged there at the manor, like he had been living there all along.

"Have I talked too much?" Lucius laughed as they walked up another wide staircase.

"No, not at all," Harry replied honestly. In fact, he felt as if he could listen to Lucius talk all day. His voice was pleasant to hear, almost as if he were singing while he talked. "I've enjoyed sight-seeing. Your house is beautiful."

"Thank you," Lucius said proudly, "but I cannot take all of the credit. My wife took control of inside decorating and such. I did the outside, which I'm proud to say has the most beautiful gardens you will ever see."

"Where is your wife?' Harry asked as he and Lucius made it to the top of the stairs. He had seen no pictures or any other sign of Misses Malfoy.

"She passed away last year," Lucius answered.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Harry said embarrassed.

"Do not be," Lucius said with a dazzling smile. "There is still a part of her with me."

And at that precise moment, a tall blonde figure came into view from the end of the hallway. "Speak of the devil," Lucius laughed. Then his silver eyes darkened in conern when he noticed that his son's appearance was different than it had been this morning... "Draco, are you alright?" he asked as he took a step in front of Harry.

"Father," Draco said as he closed his eyes and inhaled again. Harry's head swan at the alluring voice. Then the blonde walked closer to Lucius and Harry.

Harry peered around Lucius's side and was shocked at how closely resembled the two blonde's were. Draco must not have taken after his mother at all... He was beautiful, and Harry felt the sudden urge to go to him, to touch that perfectly pale skin.

"Draco, what is it?" Lucius asked as Draco stopped in front of him. Surprisingly, Draco was at least four inches taller than his father. Harry felt so small in the demanding presence, and he was only an inch shorter than Lucius...

"Who is behind you?" Draco replied with a question of his own.

"Our new house guest," Lucius answered. "His name is Harry Potter."

"Harry," Draco whispered softly. Harry's heart skipped at the sound of his name on the taller teen's lips. "Harry?" he called.

Harry blinked as if in a daze and came out from behind Lucius's back. Draco smiled and gently scooted his father out of the way. He approached Harry and embraced him tightly. "Mate," he said as he breathed in the sweet scent of Harry.

Lucius finally understood Draco's behavior. His son had found his mate... And he would living with them.

**DrarryTLA**

Sorry for the wait! Please review!


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